


Recital

by HostisHumaniGeneris



Category: Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night
Genre: Gen, Memories, Trick or Treat 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-12-27 09:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21116186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostisHumaniGeneris/pseuds/HostisHumaniGeneris
Summary: Cinder and blight veil the air bring the nightAnd your eyes, they close, sweet reposeSuspended—the hours fly—years go byThen the morning comes shadowed by the moon





	Recital

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MarsDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarsDragon/gifts).

“Why did you sing that song?” She hadn’t talked with her familiars much, at all, really. With the Dullahammer Head or Bloodbringer, it made sense; they couldn’t really talk. The Silver Knight just didn’t strike her as the type for idle speech. But this one.

“Why did you play the piano?” Came the reply, two sets of arms crossed against a tiny chest as gossamer wings flapped. The pink shape darted from Miriam’s left to right, keeping slightly ahead as she advanced. Miriam came to a halt and made sure that there were no enemies immediately nearby. She thought, trying to come to a satisfactory answer, as the Carabosse continued to flutter.

“I just felt like doing that.” Miriam said with a shrug, unsatisfied with her own answer, as she could tell that was going to be the Carabosse’s answer as well. She tightened her grip on Bloodbringer--for some reason she was comfortable using the demonic sword more as a regular sword than letting it float around at head level around her. Funny.

She was proven right seconds later. The tiny being fluttered over, perching on her shoulder. Miriam looked at her out the corner of her eye. The tiny demon’s lower hands steadied herself, while her upper set clasped together and came to a rest in her lap. “I suppose you’re more curious as to _how_ I sang that song.”

That was it. Miriam nodded, turning to look more directly at Carabosse. When she played the piano, the demon sang in harmony with the piece despite the fact that Miriam was improvising. And more importantly, the words that the faerie sang. Doing her best to mimic the demon’s chanting, Miriam sang “_And your eyes, they close, sweet repose_; _Suspended—the hours fly—years go by; Then the morning comes shadowed by the moon,”_

The faerie frowned a bit then looked at her. “You could use some singing lessons.”

Miriam scowled. Wicked fairies, like the Carabosse, were jealous and petty. She wasn’t _that _bad. Black-and-yellow eyes were looking askance, and antennae were twitching nervously. “You’re trying to dodge the point. Where did you get the lyrics?”

“Where did you get the notes to play?” The Carabosse asked, turning her attention back to Miriam. 

“I just… came up with them.” Miriam said with a shrug. “You too?”

Carabosse nodded. 

“Then why are they so…”

“Relevant?” The demon said, finishing the sentence for Miriam. Her voice was devoid of any playfulness or spitefulness. It was just one flat word. 

“Yes.” Miriam’s was just as flat. She had gone to sleep in the care of the Alchemists, only to awaken years later, learning the guild was dead, none of the shardbinders save her and Gebel alive, and Gebel in league with demons. What had been one night to her was an entire decade for the rest of the world, where it had changed irrevocably. And she was left to pick up the pieces.

“I’m part of you.” Carabosse said. “Me, that sword, the floating head, the book. You slew us. The original ‘us’, and we’re all what’s left over—no offense. I mean, being leftovers is better than being dead, right?”

Miriam tilted her head a little. That was true, she supposed. She hadn’t regretted slaying the Carabosse she had gotten the shard from, not in the slightest. Even if it had been a trifling thing, it had been a demon who meant her harm. “So what you’re saying is you got the words from me?”

Carabosse nodded. “I’m just… a reflection of a demon, filtered through this…”

A tiny hand reached up and patted the side of Miriam’s head. 

“So you know… everything?” Miriam said, searching for words. This was curious. How much of what she got from the demon was what the Carabosse thought, if it could, and how much of it came from herself. She couldn’t recall gaining any knowledge from the shard or any shard, the crystalized power of a demon. So were did her familiar’s mind come from?

“I don’t know.” Carabosse said. “I’m only _part_ of you. I don’t even know why I thought of the lyrics. You probably know more about what they mean than me. I can just tell they… affected you.”

Miriam pursed her lips. Could it be a trick? The shards she had gathered, fragments of demonic power she was turning to stopping them, had always obeyed her. Could this be an attempt to deceive her in some way? The shards served her… but too many and she could end up like Gebel.

She thought a little more, of how she interacted with the other familiars. The silver knight used techniques she had seen actual knights use before. And once she sat in a chair and opened the Dantalion. There was no way a demonic book with a leather face should’ve contained all the stories her mother used to tell her.

The shards had gone straight into her, they were a part of her. Calling out the Carabosse, or any of the others were reflections of the demon she had gotten the shard from. But they also were reflections of herself. “The lyrics do have quite some meaning for me.”

Wings fluttered slightly. “Like I said, I figured that they did. And not in a happy way, am I right?”

No, of course not. A simple ‘good night’ had brought her to the frontlines of a war against the demons. She had fallen asleep among friends, only to find that those who took her in were almost all gone; had created the mess she was currently in practically. That all of those like her were dead save Gebel, who she had to stop, had to save. 

“Still… I suppose it ends on a happy note? _‘Shards of old gathered in the name of the meek--Rise our champion—arise’_?” The faerie said, not terribly convincingly. Still, Miriam appreciated the gesture. Taking a deep breath, tiny, spindly legs pushed off of Miriam’s shoulder, and those wings fluttered rapidly, a sign that the demon wanted to stop wasting time with this conversation.

Of course, maybe that was Miriam herself.

She adjusted her grip on Bloodbringer and walked while Carabosse darted to and for, keeping an eye out for threats. “Um, Miriam? Could I ask a question?”

That stopped her in her tracks. If Carbosse had a question, was that something she did not know, or something Miriam did not know, or something Miriam knew the answer to but wanted someone to ask, or… “Sure. What is it?”

“Well, since you’re the shardbinder I assume you have an answer. You gain powers from shards, of course.”

“Yes.”

"And they can't all be familiars."

"True."

“So… I’ve been around you for a few fights and wanted to ask… _what’s with the bunny outfit?”_

Miriam stopped and blinked. She'd been experimenting with those shards she had gotten, and the one from the Lili had _ unique _ affects. She'd stopped using it a few fights ago. "You know, _ I don't know_ ."

**Author's Note:**

> You mentioned you wanted Miriam interacting with her familiars, and her dealing with being in a decade-long coma. The song the Carabosse sings at the garden seemed like a perfect jumping-on point for both. Hopefully I did the idea justice.
> 
> Also, because it will never not amuse me that one of the powers you get it to transform into a martial arts playboy bunny succubus, I had to bring that up as a punchline.


End file.
